Life in the old Montmartre, to drink to Love and Life, to share lust with artists, blend into their paintings, oblivious to space and time. To live for love and lust, to love and lust so as to live, to lose and win with a smile, to love a writer, seduce men and also turn down a prince. To live in spiralling pleasure, to linger in fading minutes, to dance through the night, just to welcome the sunrise, inebriated with new...

Her story. She knew their time together would be brief, she knew he would one day join the evanescent group of lovers that had once visited her life, she knew he would give all of himself in the spiraling madness of orgasm and take it all away once this was over. She knew all this beforehand and yet she went into it wholeheartedly, eagerly, challenging herself to emerge unscarred. He had been like tropical rain, barely gi...

The mirror called civilization, reflecting just shattered shadows, silhouettes condemned to dance against some semi-bright surface, feelings augmented and belittled, pain ignored and slowly festering, all hitting the sensibly cracked mirror, all claiming to be seen and heard for what they were really meant to be, for what they never stopped being. The cracked mirror holds just images, there´s no true, honest reflection, j...